


Idol Worship

by GrinningColossus



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Kinda, M/M, Master/Pet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Religious Conflict, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrinningColossus/pseuds/GrinningColossus
Summary: You shall have no other gods before me.And yet, perhaps it is not the worst thing in the world to kneel before another.





	Idol Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Please note the "dubious consent" tag attached to this work. Although all acts which take place in this story are consensual, both parties assume throughout the encounter that is it not.

There is no warning that it’s going to happen. One day, it just does.

One day he wakes in the middle of the afternoon a shaking, trembling mess, throwing off the threadbare duvet and panting into his empty room. Sean wonders if perhaps he’s had a bad dream that he can’t remember. He rolls over and tries to go back to sleep, but an hour passes and he feels just as twitchy as before.

By some miracle he sleeps again, but when he awakens after sunset the sensation is back, crawling under his hot, hot skin. He prays, clutching his rosary to his forehead and hoping that it will soothe the fever, but it never does.

It’s relentless.

Days pass this way, distracted and anxious, and by the fourth sunset Sean comes to the conclusion that it must be time for him to feed again. It’s been months since Doctor Reid first gave him his blood and inoculated him against the worst of the Skal virus. In those months Sean has never once felt the need to consume blood or flesh. He praises God for it, for the blessing in disguise that Reid was, loath as he was to admit it at the time.

But neither of them truly knew what they were dealing with, here. Doctor Reid had never promised him that the hunger would ebb completely, and any hopes to the contrary were merely wishful thinking on Sean’s part.

And so on that fourth day Sean ventures into the sewers, staggering against the cool, subterranean walls until he senses a living creature.

The rat is squirming and wet but the blood that falls from its body and onto his tongue is tasteless. It is sand in the mouth of a thirsty man. He spits it out like so much saltwater, prays that he will be forgiven for taking a life (a life is a life, no matter how small) for nothing, and returns to his chambers in the Night Shelter to sweat and turn, tangling his sheets between his legs.

The next night is not half as calm. As if spurred on by the tease of blood that left him unfilled the previous evening, Sean’s body revolts completely. Delirious and burning, he has strange dreams of the streets of London, of wet puddles after the late spring rain and of grey, everything grey and shadowed but for a single streak of colour in the night.

He follows it. HIs shoes are muddy and sweat runs down his forehead but he is persistent in this dream.

The bright stream takes him to a large building near the canalway. Pembroke, he realises. He has mixed feelings about this place where he was forced away from his flock to recover from trauma, where he failed to keep Harriet Jones on a short enough leash to prevent disaster.

But it’s also where he…

Ahead there is a wide courtyard and even from a distance Sean sees the flurry of human activity.

In his dream he has the sense to know that it’s not wise to draw attention to himself, but the jolt of colour suddenly sways upwards and in through an open alcove on the second floor. There’s a flickering light above the door and it sends pulses through him, drawing him like a moth to a lamp, and without understanding how he does it he is all at once standing there at the alcove, swaying on his feet.

He’s never been able to do this before, not such a long distance, and yet it seemed so easy. The logic of dreams, he supposes, but then something inside the room catches his attention.

A body is moving about. He can smell it, he can see it--a violent bright red coursing and alive, cutting through the black. Sean paws uselessly at the door frame, a sense of foreboding keeping him from entering, and then the curtain draws back and a figure steps into frame.

Doctor Jonathan Reid is a demon, he wants so badly to believe it, but he’s never seen a demon that looks so much like an angel.

The light from behind him haloes his head and Sean looks up, up, up into his face, at the curious eyes of a colour that can’t be named which stare down at him in turn. Sean hasn’t seen him in weeks but he hasn’t changed a bit.

He nearly falls through the doorway as the tension suddenly fades. Hands grasp at him, try to lift him up, and he realises Doctor Reid is kneeling, saying his name loudly, but it sounds like it’s filtered through deep, choppy waters.

All he knows is that the places where bare skin is against his is blessedly cool. From a distant corner of his mind comes the spike of some feeling that doesn’t belong to him and he doesn’t need to be told that it’s Doctor Reid. The Ekon’s thoughts and fears bleed onto him but they’re maddeningly bereft of clarity.

Reid draws him into the room. “I’m going to touch you to gauge your temperature, Sean. Is that alright?” His voice shakes. Not so long ago he’d been told in no uncertain terms that his touch was unwelcome, his medical curiosity untoward.

But Sean feels himself nodding. It’s hard to speak like this; if it brings Reid closer to understanding what’s happening to him, he will endure it.

Reid lifts his arm shakily and places the back of his hand against Sean’s forehead. “You’re hot, Sean,” he says, and Sean whimpers, grasping Reid’s wrist and holding his hand in place.

Why does he do that?

“I just need to…” Reid is careful to touch his chin only as much as he needs to to tilt Sean’s face to the light so he can examine his eyes. His gaze doesn’t leave Sean’s face as he reaches for his wrist to feel his heartbeat, tense with the trepidation that he’s about to be told off for doing it.

All the while Sean babbles, streams of broken prayers and complaints for the awful feeling taking over him. Reid is becoming frustrated with his incoherent patient (with him, or with this mysterious condition?) and backs Sean towards the chair near what must be his writing desk. He tries to sit him down but Sean isn’t having it.

“Please, Sean, just tell me what it is.  _ Tell me what is bothering you so.  _ ”

It’s dark and compelling, that tone. Without conscious thought he takes a knee, clutching near the doctor’s calf.

_ I kneel before none but the Lord  _ , he thinks, a touch hysterically, but it’s false; he’s kneeling for Reid again, but this time it isn’t against his will. This time he knows precisely what he wants.

To his credit, Reid seems to realise it’s best to play along and he sits in the chair instead, bending to be closer to Sean, and Sean grips Reid’s forearms--bare, he discovers with a start; the doctor is without his coat, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow--and gestures for the hands to be upon him again. Reid complies, resting a large palm on either side of Sean’s cheeks and jaw. The proximity has his body quaking.

_ You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God. _

It’s a whole thought but a weak one, vibrating like a thin string ready to snap.

Exodus, is it?

But Reid’s face is so striking, his gaze so kind, his touch gentle, and Sean is helpless, his eyes half-lidded and teeth sharp.

“Do you need to feed?”

Reid’s wrists are near his mouth and Sean wants to bite down. He stifles that urge but fails, unfortunately, to snuff out another one, and (God, why?) _ licks  _ the blue veins there instead, just a quick swipe of tongue over the pulse point, and Reid shudders.

A glance at his face reveals and expression that is still very much confused, but a dark glimmer in his eyes speaks to something else.

Looking Reid directly in the eyes is like having his whole body plunged into ice water. There is movement, jostling of his limbs, and he’s suddenly pressed to the doctor’s body, the whole of the front of him flush against Reid. He’s in his lap, God help him--whether he’s clambered up or Reid has lifted him there is beyond him to say.

It’s so easy to find Reid’s throat, especially with the hand at the back of his head guiding him, and easier still to bite down.

Hot elixir fills his mouth and it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted. It was good the first time, too. Overwhelmingly so. Even then, as deluded and sick as he was, there was no denying the sweet taste of Ekon blood.

But now they are bonded, are they not? Reid is not his original Maker but he was the harbinger of healing and peace. He soothed the boiling compulsion to put absurd words into the Lord’s mouth, to form his own destiny from the ghastly, inhuman desires roiling in his gut and to pretend it was what God wanted.

The blood runs down his throat and his every vein quickens to feel the unadulterated power. Sean’s limbs tremble and his fingers tangle in Reid’s shirt. The doctor’s hand tightens in his hair and the other lands on his hip. The intimate contact startles Sean but he holds on, not allowing his mouth to part from Reid’s pale flesh.

He wants.

He needs.

He wants Reid’s hands against his bare skin, wants him to banish the fire from every inch of him. He wants the Ekon’s blood rushing through him. He wants to climb into Reid’s mind and live in his thoughts, trade sensations.

_ Tell me what to do and I will do it  _ , he thinks, the need dizzying.

Perhaps his wishes have come true after all, because the body underneath his is shaking, too, and Reid exhales shakily. “You have to let go soon,” he whispers, the vibration of his voice penetrating Sean’s chest.

He pulls off immediately, chasing the rivulets of blood that escape down his lips and over the curve of Reid’s shoulder.

“Good,” says Reid, and the whole of it is euphoric--the blood, the praise, the throbbing hardness in Sean’s trousers that’s making itself known against Reid’s stomach…

God, no, why--

How embarrassing, in front of Doctor Reid, in front of  _ Jonathan,  _ the complete lack of decorum, not to mention the worldly lust that Sean had sworn off before God, supposedly--

The thoughts quiet immediately as Reid gently pulls the tucked hem of his shirt from his trousers and slips beneath. His fingers skim along Sean’s side and over his ribs and then down and around to cup the small of his back. He puts gentle pressure on Sean’s hips, beckoning him downwards in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Is that what you need?”

Sean gasps and all he can do is lean his forehead against Reid’s and let himself be moved. He’s never wanted this from anyone but he wants it from Reid, oh, how he wants it, and Reid’s body is so firm underneath his, like bedrock, except for the place he guides Sean against, except there, where he is hard, too, and Sean is so dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

“Please,” he chokes.

_ Put to death whatever belongs to your earthly nature  _ , his mind scolds.

Reid pants against his lips. He’s murmuring something, something wicked and immolating. 

“You mustn't stop, my Skal. You’re doing so well.”

_ Sexual immorality  _ .

He’s guided again, but this time it’s his lips against Reid’s. At first it is only a press of soft skin, a pleased sound in Reid’s throat, but their cocks slide together too perfectly in that moment and Sean’s lips part in a sharp inhalation and Reid’s tongue slips inside, no doubt tasting his own blood in Sean’s mouth.

_ Impurity. _

He’s never kissed anyone like this. He’s never kissed anyone at all. Tried to think of it as disgusting and unhygienic, to protect himself, but the starburst behind his eyes when his tongue meets Reid’s, oh, there’s no coming back from this. 

He can have this. He can  _allow_ himself to have this, this feeling that buoys him up instead of dragging him under. 

_ Lust. _

“You’re doing so well, Sean. That’s it. That’s it, my Skal.”

_ Evil desires. _

He licks over the points of Reid’s fangs, not with enough force to break his own skin but eager to feel where his Maker takes his own sustenance.

His...Maker…? That’s not Reid.

_ Greed. _

It  _ is  _ Reid. It always has been. From now on it always must be. All he can taste is Reid, all he can feel is hot point of contact between them, building into something he can’t escape. He feels pleasure not only from the physical act they are performing but from the pleasure Reid derives from it as well. It’s growing louder, stronger. His Maker. His Master.

_ Idolatry. _

No, that’s not--these are  _ not  _ Sean’s thoughts, they cannot be.

But he doesn’t have the time to correct himself because Reid’s hips buck against his and he releases Sean’s mouth and pants into the air, and a strange scent fills Sean’s nostrils. He realises Reid has orgasmed,  _ is  _ orgasming, and he’s doing it because of Sean, because Sean brought him pleasure, Sean pleased him, and he’s dizzy with rapture when Reid murmurs, “Come for me,” and his own orgasm hits like a punch.

He throbs and throbs and empties his fluid into his trousers (oh, the state of them) and through it all Reid strokes his back and his neck, presses cool, chaste kisses upon his cheeks and forehead.

He’s tired all of a sudden, but Reid’s arms are around him, his voice soothing, and Sean drifts away.

\----

Awareness lands upon Sean as subtly as a meteor and he shoots up in bed, startled.

Bed. Darkness. So it had all been a dream.

That’s a relief, truly, because the things he’d thought, the things he’d  _ done  _ , well. Not to mention the unpleasant stiffness of the fabric of his trousers. He’d been a boy the last time such a thing had happened. What’s gotten into him?

“Sean?” says a voice from the corner, and Sean nearly jumps out of his skin. A light flickers on.

He’s still in Reid’s office.

“Still” didn’t feel like the correct word, really; he’d been prepared to accept it all as a dream. Being here  _ at all  _ is quite the revelation. Add that to the fact that he is apparently in Reid’s bed and the whole affair makes him feel faint.

“I’m so sorry,” are the first words out of Reid’s mouth. “Please forgive me, Sean. My behaviour was abominable. I’ve been remiss in my duties both as a doctor and as your friend.”

“Your behaviour, doctor?” Sean murmurs. “I’m afraid it’s me who should be apologising.”

“I took advantage of you,” Reid tries to explain. He kneels beside the bed, hands nervously fiddling with the duvet. “I didn’t know what was wrong but you were very insistent that I touch you. It seemed to improve your condition so I continued to do so, but things clearly got out of hand from there. I sincerely apologise.”

“You did those things because I insisted on it?” Sean repeats. A black pit opens in his stomach at the thought that he could coerce the good doctor into doing such a thing.

Reid looks lost. “I did those things because they felt good,” he says guiltily. “Your feelings were an open book to me. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was obviously the simple desire to feed and yet it was overwhelming enough to cloud my senses. You must understand, Sean, I swore to myself I would never purposefully force you to do anything you to which you didn’t vigourously consent. Never again.”

“I have forgiven you that, doctor,” Sean whispers. “I understand now why you did it. I’m grateful.” He can’t look directly into Reid’s eyes and avoids his gaze, glancing about the room instead. “But, ah, you are mistaken.”

Reid blinks. “What about?”

Sean finally musters the courage to meet his eye. “My consent.”

“Do you mean that, truly?”

“Very much,” he admits in a rush of breath. Admitting it to himself is one thing and saying it aloud is another. But if Reid was not merely playing along, if he was swept up because those desires also keep residence with him...there really is no denying it.

“There’s something else,” Reid says tentatively. “You wanted me to order you about. You didn’t say as much, but I felt it through our connection. Should I assume that was your thirst talking?”

Sean thinks on it. Those thoughts frighten him a little, the ease with which he accepted his need to be told what to do. Reid would be just as uncomfortable with that as he was; after all, Sean is fully aware of how awkward their encounter at the Shelter had been, how Reid’s very personality clashed with the idea of making slaves of anyone, even if his Ekon brothers and sisters are very clear on a Skal’s purpose.  
  
There are parts of his mind, old pockets of memories, that taste like poison.   
  
This, whatever it is, is not poison. Why should the two be so dissimilar? How could that be? 

But this is now. This is Reid. This is the culmination of years on both their parts spent healing others, tending to them, becoming strong with their purpose. 

There is philosophy to parse here, he knows. But it doesn't have to be picked apart tonight.

Slowly, shakily, he rests his hand over Reid’s on the bed, willing their connection to work again. He urges Reid to submerge himself in the thoughts he couldn’t give words to. How good it felt to give up control and how badly his body wanted it. How it went entirely against his own character, not to mention Reid’s, to behave in such a way.

How they could do it again. They could, if Reid wants it.

With a jolt Sean realises he can indeed feel another presence, and Reid’s feelings through their bond reveal everything his expression can only hint at: the desire for power that confuses him, the intoxicating rightness of being given control, and, beneath it all, a frankly startling need to be tender to Sean, to protect him, to be what a Maker is supposed to be.

“Yes,” says Sean.

Reid laces their fingers together. “Yes.”

\----

He slips away like this, once or twice a week. More if he can stand it. Never for very long--the thought of leaving his flock is as unbearable as it always is.

Doctor Reid visits him, too, when his work allows it, but it’s simpler, subtler, to come to Pembroke, to come straight into his office on the second floor and join him at his desk.

Tonight Reid is writing furiously, numbers and formulas incomprehensible to anyone but him spilling over the page, but he smiles at Sean as he approaches, their hands joining for a brief moment before Reid’s expression turns dark and playful.

He ends up spending a few hours at Pembroke this way, longer by far than he intended, but as he lounges on the floor at Reid’s feet, draped over his knee, he’s in no particular hurry to leave.

_ Go and cry out to the gods you have chosen ! _ Judges 10:14 hisses in his ear.  _ Let them save you when you are in trouble! _

Reid is busy with his work but his fingers stroke back and forth through Sean’s hair, thumb brushing the strands fondly from his forehead.

There are many ways to be saved, Sean knows.

Reid’s knuckles brush his ear.

Sean sighs.

\----

  
  
  



End file.
